


Hushed

by mydeira, Sadbhyl



Series: Responsible Adults (aka, The Menageaverse) [5]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-04
Updated: 2012-04-04
Packaged: 2017-11-03 01:14:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/375438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydeira/pseuds/mydeira, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadbhyl/pseuds/Sadbhyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How "Hush" might have gone in the Menageaverse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Sound of Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Written by Mydeira. Beta'd by Sadbhyl.

Joyce stood in Rupert’s shower enjoying the warm spray that washed over her, loosening her tired muscles. Not that she minded. It was the pleasant achiness that followed a night of sexual abandon. Ethan’s return to town had more that made up for the slow day she’d spent at the gallery, and Rupert’s stopping by only improved things that much more. But what woman didn’t enjoy two men vying for her attention?  
  
Strong arms slipped around her waist and pulled her close. Joyce craned her neck back to smile at Rupert. Their mouths met in a languid kiss, easy and tender. She twisted in the embrace until she faced him, not breaking the contact between their mouths. Dropping her loofa, Joyce moved her right hand between them and began to slide it along his shaft.   
  
Rupert ended the kiss and gazed at her, black crowding out the blue of his eyes as his arousal grew. He removed her hand from his cock and placed it around his neck. Joyce placed her left around his neck as well. Slowly he pressed her against the wall, spreading her legs as he did so, and still managing to keep them both within reach of the spray. He bent his knees slightly and slid smoothly into her. Using her grip around Rupert’s neck and with some help from him as well, Joyce was able to lift her legs up and wrap around his hips. As he straightened up, she was angled just so to let him slide a little deeper.  
  
Joyce’s left hand reached out to grip the soap ledge, bracing herself as Rupert started to move, tentative at first until he became accustomed to the slick terrain of the shower. The water helped eliminate any friction and the pace began to increase. Joyce was near climax when the shower suddenly turned freezing cold, but instead of chilling their passion, the sudden shock sent them both crashing over.   
  
As she came down, Joyce began to shiver violently, but this was soon remedied by Rupert deftly reaching out and turning up the hot water. Soon they were bathed in blessedly warm water. Not certain how long the warm water would hold out, they quickly pulled apart and began to wash up. They had just enough time to rinse off before the water started to chill.  
  
Quickly dressing, Rupert gave her a quick kiss before heading downstairs to make her breakfast.   
  
After doing her hair, Joyce dressed, thankful that she had the foresight to pack an overnight bag. This way she didn’t have to rush home before work and could enjoy some extra time with Rupert. It would have been nice if Ethan hadn’t slipped out in the early hours, but he didn’t seem to be one to stay any place for too long. Maybe one of these days she could get him to stay the entire night.  
  
She packed her bag and headed downstairs, following the smell of cooking.  
  
“Smells wonderful,” Joyce said as she joined Rupert, or meant to say, but no words came out. She hadn’t screamed _that_ much last night. Again, “Smells won—” but not even a rasp.  
  
Rupert turned to her then, smiling, “Oh, Joyce, I didn’t hear—” He stopped, considering. Then tried again, but nothing came out.  
  
Hoarse might be expected, but no voice at all? Not even a whisper?  
  
“What’s going on?” she mouthed.  
  
He shrugged, but then something seemed to dawn on him and he frowned. Quite clearly it was one word: “Ethan.”  
  
Joyce let out an exasperated sigh. One step forward…  
  
“He would do something like this,” he seemed say, slamming the countertop.  
  
“Why?”  
  
Rupert looked incredulous. He mouthed the words slowly so she could catch them, “Why? Because he’s Ethan!”  
  
She turned her back on and walked out of the kitchen. It was worse than dealing with children. Was he going to blame Ethan every time something went wrong when he was in town? Given their history it was understandable, to a point.  
  
Her eyes fell on a notebook by the phone. A bunch of doodles and some words. _Can’t even shout, can’t even cry. Must have 7. Gentlemen. Slayer dream??_ Buffy. Right. Sometimes her dreams weren’t just dreams.  
  
She turned when Rupert touched her arm. He said something she gathered was an apology.  
  
Joyce picked up the notebook and shook it in front of him. “What about this?”  
  
“What about it?” he mouthed.  
  
She followed the words with her finger. “ _Can’t even shout, can’t even cry?_ ”  
  
Rupert took the notebook from her, looking it over closely. “Oh,” finally understanding. He gave her a sheepish smile.   
  
Joyce nodded, fighting a grin of her own.  
  
Suddenly, he looked horrified and started pushing her toward the door.   
  
Before she could ask what he meant, the door to Rupert’s apartment opened and in walked Xander and his girlfriend. Amy? Annie? Anya. And they were carrying two large boxes of . . .donuts? Ah. She caught Rupert’s eye. “Research?”  
  
“Yeah,” he sighed.  
  
Xander pulled up short. “Mrs. Summers?” He looked to Rupert.  
  
Thinking quickly, Joyce picked up a mug from the desk. “Coffee.”  
  
The boy nodded, understanding, and made his way into the living room.  
  
Anya studied them before following Xander.  
  
Joyce and Rupert shared a moment of relief. This was going to be interesting. Hopefully, everyone would be too occupied with the no voice thing to wonder what she was doing at Rupert’s having coffee this early in the morning when they had never sought each other out before. Aside from the band candy incident, that is.  
  


***

  
Ethan had left Rupert’s shortly after sunrise, carefully extricating himself from the tangle of bodies so as not to wake his companions. Sadly, Joyce did not see him off as she had on his previous visit, but that couldn’t be helped. It was best to leave before Rupert awoke. The man was far less amenable and tolerating of Ethan’s presence in the harsh light of day. Ethan shifted his arm, soreness evidence that his friend wasn’t all that tolerant in the darkness, either. Not to be unexpected, all things considered.  
  
The morning work crews, or lack there of, had been his first indication that something was wrong in Sunnydale. It wasn’t until he stopped by the local coffee place that he learned exactly what was wrong. The place was curiously deserted for a weekday during what should have been the workday rush. When Ethan tried to place his order with the somewhat dazed clerk he found that no sound came out when he spoke. Odd, but he was intrigued. After an extremely trying game of charades, he’d managed to order a double espresso and set out to investigate the phenomenon further.  
  
Soon he began to notice the dazed, lost look of the coffee clerk on most of the morning denizens he passed. The individuals became small groups, seeking solace in a shared malady, even more clueless together than alone.  
  
Around eleven o’clock he passed a preacher setting up shop to tend to his flock in what his sign proclaimed was the end time. Please, if you would, turn to the appropriate page and you could read about how this was indeed THE END as it had been foreseen ages ago. Ethan laughed to himself. Little did the sheep know that the apocalypse was an almost weekly occurrence in their fair town.   
  
Oh, now there was an enterprising fellow standing by the main thoroughfare, selling dry-erase boards for ten dollars. Double the normal price. Brilliant man capitalizing on a crisis. Ethan admired that.  
  
Caught up as he was in his musings, Ethan wasn’t paying much attention to where he was going and slammed into someone heading in the opposite direction. He started to make apologies to the young blond and her redheaded companion when he realized that he knew the girl quite well. The Slayer. He really needed to work on leaving when he had the chance. Well, at least he wasn’t the cause of the mayhem this time around. Not that it seemed to matter much to the girl before him, who looked like she was quite ready to kill him. If only she knew what he had done with her mother and Watcher the previous evening, well then, she might have cause.  
  
Ethan made the attempt to explain himself, but he found himself quickly sprawled on the ground after a stellar left-hook to his face. One of these days he would like to leave town without getting the shit kicked out of him. Ok, so he’d managed that on his last trip, but a repeat performance wouldn’t be taken for granted.  
  
Ow! Of course she’d choose to twist his sore arm as she pulled him to his feet. The Slayer and her companion began to march him along the street, back to Rupert’s, no doubt. That should prove entertaining. He wondered if Joyce was still there. Maybe this wasn’t so unfortunate after all.  
  
He spared a glance to the Slayer’s friend as they walked; she glared in return. With the glare he felt a surge of power, but the girl didn’t seem to notice. Well now . . . he did a bit of poking about . . . he needed to keep his eye on that one. Not yet, but someday soon she might be a force to reckon with.   
  
They halted outside Rupert’s door, and the Slayer knocked with her free hand. The door opened and Rupert stared at him, face gone quite pale. Ethan just caught a glimpse of Joyce before he was pushed, stumbling, through the door. Looks like things might be more amusing than he’d thought.  
  
Ethan landed unceremoniously on the couch where the Slayer tossed him, warning him in unmistakable body language that if he moved, it was on pain of death. Joyce was standing not five feet away; he could handle staying put.  
  


***

  
Giles inwardly cringed when he saw Ethan on the doorstep with Buffy and Willow. The last thing he needed to deal with during the crisis was Ethan trying to make him squirm.  
  
After tossing Ethan onto the couch, Buffy wrote quickly on her marker board: _I think I solved our problem._  
  
He motioned for the board, then wrote grudgingly, _It’s not Ethan._  
  
Willow snapped for attention. _But he’s Chaos guy. Isn’t this chaosy?_  
  
Ethan looked pained at that and seemed to be muttering something to the effect of “Oh, certainly, let’s blame Ethan. Things always go wrong when he’s in town.”  
  
 _Coincidence_ , Giles wrote.  
  
Willow was excited. _But this is Sunnydale, there’s no such thing._  
  
Buffy brightened as she grabbed the board back. _Oh! My dream. This might have something to do with it?_  
  
He acknowledged that she was right.  
  
Willow’s sign came up again. _He still might know something._  
  
They all looked to Ethan who at present seemed to be trying to convince an angry Joyce of something. The two realized they were being observed and stopped. Giles was impressed that she managed to remain fairly composed at possibly being found out.  
  
Buffy turned to Giles, _What’s Mom doing here?_  
  
He took the board from her, a bit too quickly perhaps, and wrote: _She stopped by for coffee._  
  
Buffy scrunched her eyes skeptically, darting from him to her mother and back. Finally, _If you say so._  
  
She would choose now to be observant.   
  
Xander had taken over Willow’s board, _Can we get back to solving this no voice thing?_  
  
Giles couldn’t help but be impressed by the boy. There was hope for Xander yet.  
  
Using Buffy’s board, Giles explained Buffy’s dream and his preliminary thoughts on its meaning to the group assembled. When he was finished, he assigned each of them to a certain aspect and sent them off to research.  
  
Xander and Anya weren’t much help, being too absorbed in one another to pay attention to much else. He was pleased to see Joyce working through a number of volumes with Willow; she had seemed quite happy to have the chance to help out. And Giles was attempting to go over Buffy’s dream with her, but kept getting distracted by Ethan, who was trying his damnedest to annoy Giles by inching ever closer to Joyce. The only way the day could get any worse would be if Spike were to suddenly show up.   
  
He had barely finished the thought when the vampire in question came bursting through his front door, smoldering blanket in tow. Closing the door and dropping his blanket, Spike made his way into the room like it was nothing out of the ordinary. While everyone else turned back to their tasks, Giles put his head in his hands and gave a silent groan.  
  
He felt Buffy nudge his shoulder and looked down at the notebook.  
  
 _Are you OK? You seem distracted._ It read.  
  
 _I’m fine_ , he wrote back, forcing a smile.  
  
Grinning, _I can beat Ethan up if you like._  
  
Giles looked over to see that Ethan had now joined Joyce and Willow. Joyce seemed to be concentrating very hard while Ethan leaned close. Buffy, he noted when he turned back, seemed as oblivious as ever. He had never been more thankful.  
  
 _Maybe_ , he replied and got up to go to the kitchen.   
  
Spike, unsurprisingly, had made himself at home, mixing some Wheatabix in with one of the remaining packets of blood from his brief stay in Giles’ tub. He was now reclining against the counter, staring out into the living room and sipping his meal. Seeing Giles, he pulled out a notepad and pencil.  
  
 _Who’s the bloke hovering over Joyce?_  
  
Trust Spike to be the observant one.  
  
Giles wrote, _Ethan Rayne, an old acquaintance of mine. And they’re researching._  
  
Spike rolled his eyes. _Any leads?_  
  
Giles shook his head. _Know anything?_  
  
 _Money?_   
  
Giles glared. _If the information is useful._  
  
 _New demons in town, not big on the noise. After something._ Spike stopped writing. _That’s all I know._  
  
Spike stowed the notebook back in his duster and started to walk away. He paused, studied Giles for a moment, then left.   
  
Giles reviewed his exchange with Spike. He didn’t think he’d given anything away when Spike commented on Ethan and the shower should have washed away any scents the vampire could have picked up. Probably just Spike being Spike. This whole thing was starting to make Giles paranoid.   
  
Well, at least Spike had confirmed Buffy’s dream. Maybe she could find out more on patrol tonight. Giles rejoined the others to continue researching.  
  
About an hour before sunset, the group started to disperse. It had been agreed early on that Ethan would be staying there so Giles could keep an eye on him, not that Giles could get rid of Ethan if he’d wanted to. Xander, Anya, and Willow had left together, Spike was in the process of leaving by raiding Giles’ kitchen, and Buffy was going to see Joyce home but pulled Giles aside as they were preparing to leave.  
  
She seemed a bit hesitant as she wrote. _Would you mind if I had Mom stay here for the night? I’d feel better knowing she wasn’t alone until we figure this thing out._  
  
Giles choked. Dear lord, the girl really didn’t have a clue, did she?   
  
When he didn’t respond. _Please, it would mean a lot to me._  
  
Like he was going to say no. This was almost too easy. He wrote, _You might want to make sure it’s alright with her first._  
  
She smiled and went over to her mother. Joyce looked at him in disbelief. With Buffy’s back turned, he flashed Joyce a wicked grin. She appeared to try very hard not to return it.  
  
Buffy came back, _All set._ She glanced at Ethan sitting on the couch, watching them with interest as he doodled on a legal pad. _All of the band candy was destroyed, right?_  
  
Giles managed to cover his laugh up with a cough. _Yes, it is. And I’ll make certain Ethan behaves himself._  
  
Convinced, Buffy gave him a quick hug and headed out the door, followed by Spike who threw a curious look over his shoulder. Giles promptly locked the door behind them. He swiveled around to face his guests. Was it wrong that he wanted to thank the demons that had done this?


	2. Silent Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giles has promised Buffy that he would keep an eye on Ethan and Joyce for the evening. Silly Buffy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by Mydeira. Beta'd by Sadbhyl.

It was almost too good to be true. Buffy really couldn’t suspect a thing if she was asking Joyce to spend the night at Rupert’s. Joyce was very glad she had decided to pack more than one change of clothes the night before. Buffy had laughed at her for years for always packing extra, just in case. Looked like the habit had finally paid off.   
  
The questioned remained, however: What now? More research, apparently, since Rupert had turned his attention back to his texts. Even Ethan had returned to the sketch he had been working on. Curious, she made her way to the back of the couch and peered over his shoulder.  
  
Ethan had drawn a fairly good likeness of Willow, but at the same time it wasn’t Willow. At least not a Willow she had ever seen. There were no traces of the upbeat girl in the rendering. Instead a young woman with cold, black eyes stared angrily out from the page. Several words had been scattered around as a loose sort of frame. _Power. Darkness. Guidance._   
  
Joyce realized Ethan had stopped working and was now staring at her.  
  
“What is this?” she mouthed.  
  
He flipped to a clean sheet. _An impression, mostly. A potential outcome._ Seeing her confusion. _Just a feeling I got from her this afternoon. Might be nothing._  
  
Borrowing his pencil, _Do you do this often? Sketch, I mean. It’s good work, if a little unsettling.  
  
I’ll take that as a compliment. I mostly do it to pass the time._ Ethan smiled, eyes dancing. _Don’t you think it’s time old Rupert took a study break?  
  
It does help to clear one’s thoughts_, she agreed, thinking it over. Then leaned down and kissed him, a brief exchange before pulling back. _I forgive you.  
  
For…  
  
Letting my daughter capture you this morning._  
  
One moment Ethan was setting the pad and pencil aside, and the next, Joyce found herself pulled over the couch and onto his lap.   
  
She nodded toward Rupert. Didn’t they have another plan?  
  
“He’ll catch on,” he seemed to say before capturing her mouth with his, sensual and slow.  
  
The deeper his tongue sought, the closer she pulled him, wanting more. Maybe it had been the game of pretend she’d had to play all afternoon around the kids, but she was suddenly on fire. Joyce broke away, panting, and moved so she now sat astride Ethan, wishing she had worn the skirt she’d packed instead of the simple black slacks. When she didn’t immediately do anything, Ethan shifted, rubbing her just right, and she let out a silent gasp. He grinned and did it again. Joyce kissed him finally, pressing tightly against him and grinding down.  
  
Joyce tugged at Ethan’s shirt, moving her hands up and under once it was free to fan across his smooth back. As he made his way to her neck, Joyce was able to look in Rupert’s direction and saw that he was frozen, book forgotten midway off a shelf. She held his gaze and flashed an inviting smile. There was plenty of time to research later.  
  


***

 

The first thing Giles had wanted to do after Buffy left was to take her mother upstairs and shag her senseless. Having to go through the entire day acting like Joyce was no more than an acquaintance and mother of his Slayer had been trying, to say the least. And Ethan not leaving her side only made things worse, compounded by his own self-imposed distance. It was amazing he had been of any use at all.  
  
He did not give into his first impulse and instead returned to his books. Joyce went over to inspect Ethan’s sketching. If Giles remembered correctly, Ethan had quite a talent, but he thought his friend had given it up years ago.  
  
Sitting down at his desk, Giles went over the notes he had made earlier. Research was going nowhere, at least until they got a lead of some sort, but that didn’t mean he could give it all up because there were suddenly more enticing pursuits.  
  
Giles had been so absorbed in the texts before him, that it wasn’t until he had to get a new book on the other side of the room that he realized something was going on.   
  
In the middle of reaching for Caroid’s Catalysts, he heard Joyce gasp and turned to see her now astride Ethan, hands playing across his back. Then she was looking right at him, and he knew he was lost. Research was now the last thing on his mind.   
  
Giles replaced the book and made his way over to the couch. Joyce reached out and pulled him down to her.  
  
“Took you long enough,” she grinned and then kissed him hungrily.  
  
Ethan, he noted, sat back and watched, seemingly quite amused. Smug bastard.  
  
Not breaking the kiss, Giles moved Joyce’s arm around his neck and managed to hoist her up, off of Ethan, and into his own arms. Pausing long enough to throw Ethan a triumphant smirk, Giles headed up the stairs and into his bedroom with Joyce.  
  
He placed her gently on the bed and, kicking off his shoes, joined her. He was on her then, pouring every ounce of his pent up lust into the kiss, dexterously undoing the buttons on her shirt. Rolling then so she was on top, he slipped the shirt off and tossed it aside. When he unclasped her bra, Joyce sat up, letting it slide down. She threw it behind her.  
  
Surprised to not hear it land, they both looked in the direction she had thrown it to see Ethan dangling it casually from his finger. Giles sat up and pulled Joyce in for a searing kiss, not letting up until she was gasping for air. He worked his way slowly past her chin, down her neck, lightly tasting her collarbones before descending between her breasts, all the while pressing her back until she rested where his legs had been, head almost hanging off the foot of the bed.  
  
Giles made quick work of her pants and underwear, drawing them back and off. He removed his shirt before sliding his way up between her spread legs. Seeing that Ethan was still in the doorway, reclining, watching, Giles dipped his head, delving deeply into Joyce’s moist folds. Her hips arced off the bed in response, and if she could speak, Giles was certain she would have cried out.  
  
She lifted her head up to mouth one word, “More.” And let it fall back.  
  
Knowing that Ethan could see the play of emotions across her face while he could not, Giles drove Joyce hard and fast, licking and sucking until he had to hold her hips to keep her from writhing away. He increased the pressure a little more and sent her over the edge, shaking with a silent scream.  
  
Finished, Giles sat back, making a production of licking his lips for Ethan’s sake. Ethan, who had actually been sketching the entire time, set the paper and pencil aside, and stalked toward the bed. Before Giles knew what hit him, Ethan had pounced, pushing him back and pinning him firmly to the bed. And then Ethan was kissing him, savage and relentless, seeking out, Giles knew, every last bit of Joyce. It was the same thing he would have done, were their roles reversed.  
  
Giles tested the hold Ethan had; he wasn’t going anywhere until Ethan chose to let him. So that was the game? Ripper bit down on the other man’s tongue just hard enough to get his attention. Ethan pulled back, eyes dark but pleased. Ripper took advantage of the moment and flipped so he was now in power. In one swift motion, he tore apart the buttons holding Ethan’s shirt together. Next he undid the belt and pants, reaching his hand in to take firm hold of Ethan’s throbbing cock and began pumping, a practiced mix of pleasure and pain.  
  
Still focused, Ethan quickly undid Ripper’s pants and reached inside. The contact of hand to aroused flesh made Ripper hiss. Damn, he’d denied himself too long. Ethan began to keep time, fast and rough. They matched each other in a frenzied race, building but holding themselves back, waiting for the other to go over first. Soon they came and Ripper collapsed on top, their fluids mingling between them.   
  
They lay there for a moment, both catching their breath until Giles, back in control, rolled off. He opened his eyes to see Joyce looking on. Shit, he hadn’t ever meant for her to—but she didn’t look horrified. Quite the opposite. The whole exchange seemed to have turned her on because her own hand was working low, pressing and rubbing in just the right spots. Ethan propped himself up next to Giles, and they both watched as Joyce got herself off.   
  


***

 

Ethan moved the pencil lightly over the page, briefly outlining the scene at hand before committing it to darker definition.  
  
Rupert was propped up against the headboard, book open in his blanketed lap, sound asleep. His right hand had strayed at some point to toy with Joyce’s hair and had settled there, entangled. He looked younger and more relaxed that Ethan had seen him in years. Joyce was asleep as well, curled against Rupert’s side, her head rested on his chest.  
  
It was a peaceful, almost domestic scene, if one didn’t know better, that was.   
  
Joyce’s hand, Ethan noticed, was now reaching behind her, searching for something. When she didn’t find it, her eyes opened and she began to look around the room until she finally spotted him, a slow smile spreading across her face. She patted the empty space behind her. _Come to bed_ , the gesture said.  
  
He nodded and mouthed, “Soon.” Happy with his answer, Joyce shifted against Rupert and closed her eyes.  
  
Realizing his pencil was dull, Ethan decided to head downstairs in search of a fresher one, or a sharpener at the very least. Throwing on Rupert’s robe, he made his way down the stairs, sketchpad in hand.  
  
With the light from the kitchen, he began rummaging about the desk, careful to not make too much noise. His head snapped up when he heard movement outside. Going to the window, Ethan peered out onto the silent street. Dead as the proverbial tomb. He was about to go back to his search when a movement across the street caught his eye.  
  
In the orange street glow, he could just make out a couple of shadowy figures that seemed to be floating along the sidewalk. Nighttime oddities, one of the many charms of living on a hellmouth.  
  
Ethan jumped back as a figure passed close by the window. In the shadows he could see but was not seen. The figured that passed had been dressed in a sharp suit and tie. But the face was what gave Ethan the chills, and he was a man who was not easily frightened. Skin stretched taut, wide menacing grin permanently affixed. It reminded him of the story his mother had told him when he was little of monsters dressed like men on their way to Sunday church. They came to town and stole something from the naughty little boys and girls, and the men silenced their screams. Mother did love to exaggerate.   
  
Still, it might be of some use. Ethan made his way back to the desk, sat down and began to sketch. Wouldn’t it just kill Ripper if Ethan beat him at his own game.


	3. Silence is Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discovering and destroying the Gentlemen, with a little bit of fun on the side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by Mydeira. Beta'd by Sadbhyl.

At first Giles thought Ethan had slipped out in the middle of the night, as he tended to do. But Ethan’s clothes were still strewn about the room, and Giles found that his good robe was missing. No, he couldn’t take the old, frayed one, could he?  
  
Closing the door behind him so Joyce wouldn’t be disturbed, Giles made his way downstairs to make himself some coffee in preparation for another research-filled day. Ethan, he found, had fallen asleep on the couch, various tomes opened and stacked around him. Was it possible that Ethan had been trying to help?  
  
Giles quietly made his way over to investigate. He picked up the yellow legal pad that Ethan had been carrying around with him since yesterday. On it was a sketch of a figure in a suit, maybe a skeleton or an old man. It reminded Giles of a grinning undertaker. Around the figure, Ethan had made notes to himself. Some Giles recognized as his own about Buffy’s dream, the others belonged to Ethan. _Can’t even shout, can’t even cry.—Nursery rhyme? Gentlemen take something from bad boys and girls. Want 7—tongues? sacrifices?_ Why was Ethan helping? To possibly impress Joyce?  
  
The man in question was now awake, waiting patiently for Giles to finish. Ethan motioned for the tablet.  
  
 _I don’t think I’ve read that much in years_ , he wrote.   
  
Giles tapped the picture.  
  
 _Right._ Ethan grinned. _That, I believe, is behind your town’s problem. Saw three of them wandering the street last night. My plan was to show you up by figuring this thing out._  
  
Taking the pencil with a smirk, Giles scribbled, _Not as easy as it looks?_  
  
Ethan shook his head.  
  
Must have been rough if Ethan was admitting to it.  
  
They were interrupted by a dull thump at the door. Giles went over and glanced out the peephole. Seeing nothing, he carefully unlocked and opened the door to retrieve the morning paper. Perusing the paper, he saw that some young man had gotten his heart ripped out in the middle of the night.  
  
Ethan caught his attention with another note. _The only thing that makes any sense is a story Mother used to tell me to try and scare me into being good._  
  
Giles looked at the news story, then back at Ethan’s drawing and notes. There was something there, just out of reach. Story! He ran over to his bookshelf and pulled a bright red volume from the top row. Embossed in gold across the top: Fairy Tales. He quickly flipped through until he came to the piece he was searching for.  
  
Walking back to the couch, he handed Ethan the open book. After skimming the story, Ethan’s head shot up, eyes wide.  
  
“You’re joking!” he seemed to say.  
  
Giles shook his head. It was ridiculous but there was no other explanation. His own mother had told him the story once to frighten him into not lying to her again. The Gentlemen came to town in search of hearts and stole the voices of their victims so as not to hear their screams.  
  


***

 

Joyce stretched out her tired muscles. Surprised to not encounter anything or anyone, she opened her eyes and found herself alone in the bed. And judging by how cool the sheets were on either side of her, Joyce guessed she had been alone for sometime. Peeking at the alarm clock, she winced. Ten-thirty? She never slept that late.  
  
Sighing, she got out of the bed. She threw on the worn flannel robe at the foot of the bed, picked up her bag, and went downstairs to shower.   
  
Ethan and Rupert, she found, were bent over a book, writing back and forth. They looked up, acknowledging her, and then turned back to what they were doing. Were the two men actually working together on something? This she had to see.   
  
She saw that Rupert was already showered and dressed. As Joyce approached, they seemed to finish their discussion and Rupert picked up a stack of books. He gave her an apologetic look and a quick kiss before leaving.  
  
Joyce turned to Ethan. He handed her an already written page.  
  
Had a bit of a breakthrough. Rupert’s gone off to round up and inform the troops.  
  
She picked up the pencil. Were you actually helping him?  
  
Don’t let it get around, he winked. Then added, Would you mind terribly if I showered first?  
  
“Go ahead,” she mouthed; she wasn’t in any hurry.  
  
While Ethan went to shower, Joyce poked around the notebooks and scraps of paper, trying to piece together what the men had figured out. She came across Ethan’s legal pad of drawings and began to flip through them.  
  
The most recent picture seemed to be of a demon of some sort. Based on the notes, it seemed to be the creature responsible for the laryngitis that plagued the town. Now she knew why he hadn’t come back to bed last night. He must have gone downstairs and seen one of the creatures.  
  
The picture before that was the one she had seen him working on. She lay curled next to a sleeping Rupert. There was a shadowy outline resembling a man laying on her right and slightly removed from her and Rupert. Joyce wasn’t sure how much she wanted to read into the picture. She turned the page again.   
  
And here was the one he had been working on while Rupert was going down on her. The top of Rupert’s head was just visible between the peaked mounds of her breasts. Joyce followed the valley forward as it faded out to her collarbone, down across her neck, curving out over the edge of the bed. Her hair cascaded down, fanning out around, framing her face which was...which was...did she really look like that? There was an almost ecstatic glow lighting up her features, and she appeared neither young nor old. She just was. It evoked a sense of reverence. Finally she came to rest on her eyes, wide and passion dilated, but focused intently on the artist. It was one of the most moving drawings she had ever seen, artistically and erotically.  
  
Joyce nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see Ethan studying her intently, clad in a towel and still wet from the shower. If she could speak, she wasn’t sure she would be able to. There just weren’t any words.  
  
She set the drawing aside and stood up. When words failed, well...Joyce began to kiss him with deliberate slowness, savoring him, thanking him for what he had shown her. She pulled back, licking her lips.   
  
He touched her face lightly, toying with one of her loose curls before tucking it back behind her ear.   
  
Joyce breathed deeply, taking in his scent, shower-clean and entirely Ethan. She ran her fingers lightly along the top of the towel and noted how the front twitched; she enjoyed having that effect on a man again. And what a man he was. There were glimpses she caught from time to time of his extremes: a frightening darkness and the capacity for great tenderness. Last night when he and Giles had gone after each other, Joyce saw a hint of what they tried to hide from her, although Ethan did so to a lesser extent. She wondered if either one of them would ever trust her enough to show her their darker natures.   
  
But now wasn’t the time to think on such things.  
  
She realized Ethan was just watching her as she mused and explored, lightly holding her. It suddenly dawned on Joyce that she still needed to shower. The scent of morning after hung about her. Not entirely unpleasant, but clean would be nice, too.  
  
Joyce made to break away, but Ethan’s hold tightened, keeping her there. She pointed toward the shower and he shook his head. No? And then he was kissing her as gently as she had kissed him. Well, if he didn’t mind her unshowered state, she wouldn’t let it bother her.  
  
She deftly undid the towel, letting it drop. Ethan pulled her closer in response. No, he didn’t seem to mind at all.   
  
Undoing the belt, Ethan worked open the robe and walked her backward, until she bumped into the couch and fell slowly back, pulling him down on top of her. Joyce moaned at the skin-to-skin contact. Never breaking the kiss, Ethan propped himself up with one hand and began to massage slowly down her body with his other. Arching up, seeking full contact, Joyce was denied, as much restrained as caressed by his hand. His fingers passed over her throbbing clit and slid deeply into her slick, wet center.  
  
She wanted to cry out, give voice to what he was making her feel, but there was no sound other than the quickened pants of breath. So close, but it wasn’t enough. Joyce needed more than Ethan’s skillful fingers.  
  
“Please,” she begged silently, holding his gaze. “I need you.”  
  
He hesitated and she realized why. Unlike the bedroom, protection wasn’t so readily at hand. Joyce doubted she could make it up the stairs.  
  
“Bathroom?” she suggested.  
  
Ethan nodded and, pressing a quick kiss to her mouth, got up.  
  
Joyce lay on the couch waiting, body humming so close but so far from release. She longed for a simpler time when such things weren’t a concern.   
  
He soon returned, condom in place, and positioned himself between her legs. Joyce sighed when his cock slid easily in.  
  
Her legs wrapped around his waist as Ethan began to thrust deep and quick. Closer, but still not enough. She met him half way, mouths crashing together. Joyce grabbed Ethan’s free hand and brought it between them, pressing hard against her clit. Finally, she climaxed, longing to scream his name.  
  


***

 

Ethan’s head shot up when he heard the door lock turn. He and Joyce had fallen asleep on the couch, and by the looks of the fading light they had been asleep for some time. Probably not the wisest of moves if Rupert decided to bring the children back for more research. Hopefully the man had the good sense not to do that, for Joyce’s sake. Okay, for his, too. Ethan wasn’t quite ready to die yet, which is what would happen if the Slayer caught him and her mother on the couch in flagrante.  
  
Rupert, thankfully alone, frowned when he saw them.  
  
Fortunately, Ethan was saved from having to defend himself, since Joyce chose that moment to wake up.  
  
Stretching, she opened her eyes and smiled up at him. Then she paled, seeming to realize they weren’t alone.  
  
“Just Rupert,” he assured her.  
  
The smile returned as she got up and made her way over to Rupert. After a brief silent discussion, she gave him a quick kiss and went to the bathroom. Moments later, Ethan heard the shower start up.  
  
Well, this was going to be fun. Ethan wasn’t quite sure he wanted to face Ripper’s wrath at being found naked, with Joyce, in plain view of anyone who entered the apartment.   
  
Grabbing a notebook and pen, Rupert wrote as he walked over to the couch. _Joyce says it wasn’t your fault, falling asleep on the couch like that._   
  
Ethan smirked as he wrote back. _You think I have a death wish?_  
  
 _Well, you can’t seem to stay away_ , his friend smiled reluctantly.  
  
 _Some things are worth the risk._  
  
Rupert didn’t seem to know quite how to respond to that. Finally, _You do know I expect you to pay to have the couch cleaned._  
  
Ethan looked toward the bathroom. _Joyce seems to be taking quite a long time in there.  
  
She hasn’t been in there all that_—he stopped writing. _You can’t be serious.  
  
What, you think she’ll mind?  
  
No, I know she won’t mind. Nonethele—_  
  
Ethan pulled the paper away from him and stood, naked. “Your loss,” he mouthed, before heading toward the bathroom. Sparing a glance back, he saw Rupert muttering while he undressed.   
  
The steam billowed out as he pushed open the bathroom door. Joyce’s outline seemed to move in time with some silent tune. He wondered if her voice was any good.  
  
Rupert joined him, shaking his head.  
  
Ethan whipped back the curtain and Joyce jumped with a silent shriek. Turning, she gave him a death glare before tossing her sponge at his face, which Rupert managed to intercept. Ripper flashed him a wicked grin and they both joined Joyce in the shower.  
  
She seemed to be fighting with herself whether to be pleased or annoyed at the intrusion. Pleased won out as they pressed her against the wall.   
  
In concert, he and Rupert leaned in to nibble on an ear, hands slipping lightly over her soap-coated body. Movement unhindered by friction, they worked fluidly down, down until they reached her sex. Together they parted her lips, slid over her swollen clit and sunk into her tight, hot center as one. Joyce’s mouth opened in a silent O of surprise as they jointly fingered her toward climax.   
  
Ethan groaned when her hand closed tightly around his cock and began to skate smoothly up and down. He noticed that she was giving the same attention to Rupert. In response to her returned attentions, their efforts intensified, driving harder, faster until she was gripping them tightly as she came, shuddering.  
  
“Oh god!” she screamed, voice high and hoarse.  
  
Rupert’s eyes locked with his. Had she just—  
  
“Don’t stop,” Joyce breathed, unaware that her voice had returned, fists clenching tightly around their straining cocks.  
  
It was the first human voice they had heard in days. And it was Joyce’s voice, rusty from lack of use and passion. Giles, he noted, came violently, shuddering as he braced himself. Ethan followed, his climax no less intense for holding off.   
  
All three leaned against the shower wall, recovering and reacclimating. They soon took advantage of the remaining warm water to wash up. Ten minutes later, they emerged from the bathroom sated, clean, and uncertain of what to say now that they could speak. They silently headed upstairs to dress. How quickly the human animal could adapt.   
  
After dressing, Ethan went downstairs to find the legal pad with his sketches.  
  
“You’re leaving?” Joyce asked as he tore out the pictures.  
  
“I’ve long worn out my welcome,” he replied lightly, watching as she walked toward him, only half dressed.  
  
She seemed to hesitate before finally speaking again. “Might I possibly have that picture?”  
  
Ethan looked at the drawing he had made while Rupert pleasured her. Open and transcendent, he had managed to capture the vision. “To destroy?”  
  
“No,” was the quiet reply. “I like it...a lot, actually. I didn’t think I could...look like that.”  
  
And that was why she could. He handed her the picture.   
  
“So, I guess we’ll...I’ll see you when I see you?”   
  
He nodded, “You will.”  
  
Then he headed for the door.  
  
“Ethan.”  
  
He stopped and turned to face her.  
  
“Keep an eye out for Buffy, she’s probably still patrolling.”  
  
Ethan smiled as he walked back to her. He pulled her to him, giving her a quick, hungry kiss, promising more. Then he broke away and headed out the door.   
  


***

 

  
“Ethan leave?” Giles asked when he heard footfalls enter the room.  
  
“Felt he’d over stayed his welcome,” Joyce replied as she made her way to her overnight bag.  
  
He noticed the yellow sheet she was tucking away. “What’s that?”  
  
“Oh nothing, just a sketch of Ethan’s I admired,” she said, a slight flush coloring her cheeks as she pulled on a sweater.  
  
“Ethan always did have a bit of talent in that department.” Quite a bit actually, and sometimes frighteningly revelatory, if memory served.  
  
“Would you like to see it?” She held the paper out to him, face down.   
  
He took it from her. On turning it face up, his cock immediately jumped in response to the rendering of Joyce in complete ecstasy. Giles didn’t know what to say.  
  
“Is it strange that I wanted to keep it?” she asked, coming to stand by his side.  
  
Still speechless, he shook his head. Finally, “I’m surprised he parted with it.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“I wouldn’t have.”   
  
She smiled, taking it from him. “He had a number of others that were quite moving as well.”  
  
“Oh?” he said noncommittally, as he finished buttoning his shirt.  
  
He heard her sigh, and the bed give as she sat down.  
  
“What’s wrong?” He went over and sat by her.  
  
Joyce shrugged. “Just not ready to return to reality, I guess.”  
  
“Then don’t,” he said, feeling the same reluctance himself. She looked at him. “Stay, for the rest of the night.”  
  
“I should really get home,” she said slowly.  
  
“Should?” he whispered, leaning close to her ear. “But do you really want to?”  
  
She cocked her head, eyes dancing, “Not tired of me yet?”  
  
In response, he leaned in to kiss her, pressing her back slowly onto the bed. Her arms encircled his neck, pulling him close. He broke off, and looking down at her, a soft smile at his lips, “Never.”   
  
And then they were kissing again, but it wasn’t rushed or frenzied like things had been for the past few days. Their tongues danced around each other, a casual tango, savoring just being together. They were taking their time, making it last.  
  
Giles worked a hand up under her sweater to graze lightly over a lace-covered breast.  
  
She gasped, arching into him, “Tell me why we bothered getting dressed?”  
  
“Pretense?” he murmured and felt her smile in response.   
  
They slowly undressed, caressing and enjoying being alone with each other again. Soon they lay together, side-by-side, naked, and lightly touching.  
  
Joyce laughed suddenly.  
  
“What?” Giles asked, fingers tracing over her stomach.  
  
“I was just thinking about how grateful I am that Buffy’s so involved in her own life right now,” she replied, hand teasing against his cock.  
  
“Maybe not that self-involved. Before leaving, she did ask if there was any band candy left.” Joyce’s eyes blinked wide in surprise. He smiled. “But I think she was just worried about Ethan being here than anything else.”  
  
She resumed her strokes with a grin. “You should be sure to keep her away from telepathic demons this time around.”  
  
He pulled her to him, trapping her hand between them. “Impetuous tonight, aren’t we?” He kissed her long and slow, when he wanted nothing more than to ravage her. While he was quite certain that’s what Joyce wanted, he wasn’t quite ready to give in. He wanted to play his own game first.   
  
“A sure sign I should probably leave,” she said, fighting to keep her face serious.  
  
Giles rolled on top of her then. “You aren’t going anywhere, Mrs. Summers.” All thoughts of taking things easy left his head as he delved deep into her obliging mouth. Her hand wrapped tightly around him, working him steadily, only drove him on. His own hand finally worked down and slid easily between her legs.  
  
“Oh god, Rupert!” she gasped, hips seeking his touch.  
  
He pulled back slightly, “Maybe it would be a good idea for you to leave.” And he’d be damned if she didn’t practically growl in response, bringing his hand back to rub over her slick, wet flesh.  
  
They drove each other on, almost to climax. Finally, he spread her legs, preparing to enter her in one quick thrust, when the phone rang.  
  
“Don’t you dare answer it!” she warned voice raspy and low.  
  
With a smirk, he rolled away and reached for the phone. Propping himself up against the headboard, he answered, “Rupert Giles.”  
  
“Giles, hey.”  
  
“Buffy,” he said, emphasizing the name for Joyce’s benefit. And immediately regretted it when he saw the wicked gleam that came to her eyes. He shook his head vehemently, hoping to deter her. “Everything go alright, then?”  
  
“Aside from green demon goo everywhere, it went pretty well,” the girl reported. “Not sure what I would have done if Riley hadn’t shown up.”  
  
“Oh?” he said, hoping Buffy wouldn’t pick up on his change in tone, since her mother was presently inching her way up toward him.  
  
Buffy began to relate the events of the night just as Joyce ducked her head down, taking his cock all the way into her mouth.   
  
He must have groaned because Buffy broke off her chatter, “Giles, is everything alright?”  
  
“Yes, um, fine,” he managed, trying to focus, but Joyce’s bobbing head and twirling tongue were quite distracting. He closed his eyes. No, no better. “I’m just...tired is all.”  
  
“I should let you go. I’ll fill you in on the rest tomorrow?”  
  
“Yes...that would be...good.” His attempts to halt Joyce only seemed to encourage her, her ministrations intensifying. She rose all the way up, lips coming together in a satisfying pop before she took him all the way in again.   
  
“Okay, then, I’ll talk to you later,” Buffy said uncertainly as she signed off.  
  
“Good night,” he said with a bit more force than was needed, then slammed down the phone. “Joyce, do you have any idea—”  
  
She lifted her head up, “Payback sucks, doesn’t it?”   
  
He remembered when Buffy had called Joyce a few weeks back. Revenge, was it?  
  
“I think we’ve had a bad influence on you,” he said, pulling her up to straddle him.  
  
“You don’t seem to mind,” she said, impaling herself with agonizing slowness.  
  
“A gorgeous, naked woman in my bed?” he began to move with her. “What is there to mind?”  
  
Joyce nipped at his ear, voice throaty, “Are we going to talk all night? Or are you going to fuck me?”   
  
Giles almost came right there. Pushing himself up, he leaned Joyce back until he was in the dominant position, her legs now loosely about his waist. He pulled back slowly until barely the head remained sheathed, then plunged in quick and deep.   
  
She let out a grunt of pleasure. “Again.”  
  
He did it again.  
  
“Harder.”  
  
He fucked her harder.  
  
“Faster.”  
  
He went faster.  
  
“Kiss me.”  
  
He did and was lost.


End file.
